


Consensual

by gregorin_greymalkin



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, M/M, Non-Consensual, Object Insertion, Oral Sex, Rape, Rough Sex, Submissive Scott Summers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 21:47:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gregorin_greymalkin/pseuds/gregorin_greymalkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wolverine wants Cyclops. Wolverine gets what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consensual

**Author's Note:**

> This is either a rape from the POV of a rapist who doesn't realize that's what he is, or a rough wooing by a closeted sadist of a closeted masochist, depending on how reliable a narrator the reader finds Wolverine in this fic. 
> 
> With either interpretation this is seriously proceed at your own risk time.

Logan knows that he's a man with a missing past. He's a fragment of himself; he's the flotsam that got washed ashore after the liner sank. Everything else went down with the ship and he's the remnants of a tragedy he can't quite remember. It hurts and he feels it gives him a pass on certain things –- like being nice to people who irritate him so their feelings won't get wounded. It also means he doesn't need more complications in his life. He certainly doesn't need this annoying, preppy kid in his life, with his sculpted cheekbones and his prissy, pretty mouth. He watches Scott Summers, who looks like a supermodel but doesn't know it, unironically pulling on figure-hugging black leather and can't entirely repress a smirk. Maybe, while he's here, he can find a way to make the guy entertain him.

Summers says, "What?" Annoyed and confused at once. It's a good look on him. Logan toys idly with the idea of keeping Summers annoyed and confused forever. The thought pops into his mind as cleanly as a blood-stained metal claw that Summers would look even better if he was annoyed and confused and _naked_.

"Just wondering who picked out the sex dungeon fetish wear and made it the official uniform."

"It's light and flexible and yet offers protection against –- "

"You know what it doesn't offer protection against, Bub? Guys looking at your ass. Which – trust me – every villain out there will have done by now."

Yep, annoyed and confused is definitely a great look on Summers.

"No, they…don't."

Logan feels just a tiny spasm of conscience because even though he knows - because he asked - that Cyclops is twenty-five, the kid just looked…twelve; but the game is to plant doubt and foster insecurity, so, strike one for the home team. He slaps Summers on his taut little right buttock, quite lightly, but letting his open hand linger a fraction longer than necessary. "Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, kid."

Summers doesn't get it. He adds affronted to his default setting of annoyed and confused, but when he pulls away from Logan's hand, the confusion is uppermost. Logan has just planted a thought that didn't exist before. It literally didn't exist. Logan shakes his head in disbelief. Maybe he does need to stick around. Maybe these innocent do-gooders aren't actually safe to be let out without a keeper. Someone grounded. Someone who actually understands how the world works down in the gritty, grinding gears of life.

Logan says, "Kid, do you even know what you are?"

Summers says, "I'm a mutant. I'm the leader of the X-Men. I'm Jean Grey's boyfriend." That one is defiant, thrown at Logan like a challenge. "I'm Charles Xavier's adopted son. I'm not the one with memory problems, Logan."

That's a low blow –- hitting a man with his disability. That's definitely not the usual Scott Summers style, so Logan must have him pretty rattled. He moves in close and admires the way the kid won't back down, bracing himself for whatever impact comes next.

Logan looks right at that beautiful mouth like it's his for the taking any time he wants it and says huskily, "What you are is a pretty _boy_ in a world full of rough, hairy _men_. Surprised no one's taught you that already. Maybe I ought to stick around and deliver that particular lesson."

The boy tenses, fingers curling into fists. He doesn't quite get what Logan's threatening him with – he probably thinks it's about Jean, or dick-size, or who can beat who in a fight – and it's all that and more, but it's jangling his nerves and firing up his temper in a way that makes a red light pulse behind his visor. Logan wonders if he has to fight not to let the beams break out when he climaxes. He wonders how his face screws up when he comes. How his spine arches, how his body flexes. The thought excites him and he cups a hand behind the kid's head and pulls his mouth in hard against Logan's, bruises him with a kiss while the kid just lets it happen, too shocked to pull away, until Logan's tongue forces its way into his mouth and then he pulls back, stumbling -– Logan reluctantly lets go of his hair but there's a moment where it's pulling through his fingers where he can feel how soft it is.

Summers wipes his mouth, still shocked. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Giving you a life lesson, Bub."

Summers punches him –- hard, right in the face. It's a beautiful, clean-thrown blow, and it would have put most men out. It puts Logan on his ass, and he's impressed, he has to admit. Kid's got a great body but he can tell it's hard-won. Not naturally buff, that boy. Probably a natural lightweight who's fought hard for every ounce of muscle-tone he possesses, but he punches above his weight, economic, crafted. Logan licks the blood from his mouth before the cut closes up, wanting to savor it. He smirks at Summers. "Nice –- salty, but you still tasted better."

And now the kid's mad as hell and comes at Logan like he wants to kill him. Which suits Logan fine. He springs up and clenches his fists, and they're fighting, and it's the best cage fight ever, because this boy is fast and strong and supple as a whip. Logan really doesn't want to mark that face, but he wants to put him on his tight little ass, just so honors are even. 

It turns out to be a harder task than expected; this tall, slim boy in his ass-hugging black leather has the reflexes of a viper; it's not a mutation, Logan can tell that, it's just hours and hours of practice. The kid clearly has no life at all outside of that damned Danger Room they're so proud of. Nothing else explains how he can step up against Logan and not be a knockout in the first ten seconds. 

Logan swings and the kid ducks under it; follows up with a solid right to the ribs, weighted so as to steal the breath but not break the bone. The kid is pulling his punches with _Logan_? Okay, now he's pissed. The guy trying to kill him he could forgive, but going easy on him because Logan's just a street brawler and Summers is a trained professional? For that he needs to be punished.

He blows Summers a kiss. "Anyone ever tell you that you're beautiful when you're angry?"

The red light behind the visor pulses like it wants to break out but Summers sucks up everything he must want to say, doesn't let his concentration lapse, not even for a second. Logan gives him his best smirk. "And did I mention that what you've got there is a great little ass?" 

That should have won him a wild haymaker and a dropped guard, but, no, the kid is still boxing clever, even though he smells angry the way coins smell hot in the hand. He gets under Logan's next punch like it's a limbo bar, slams his elbow into Logan's thigh and knocks his leg out from under him, then jumps the grabbing hand that shoots out for his ankle. Logan has to hand it to him, the kid has good moves.

He keeps sledging. Telling Summers that he bets there's a pool out there somewhere among the supervillains over who gets to nail his fine piece of x-tail first. Toad pretty much owned him in that railway station, didn't he? So maybe Logan should spot a twenty on him. Summers smells like he wants to break out the optic beams the way little kids want candy on Halloween but he is reining it back, because this is what Mr. Stick Up His Ass does best –- self-control. Logan muses aloud about the likelihood of the leader of the X-Men enjoying being dominated in bed. He mentions, casually, that he definitely looks the type; the buttoned up ones always do want to be pinned down and taken hard. In which case he's gonna have to put a fifty on Sabretooth.

He's actually pretty impressed by the way Summers doesn't say 'Fuck you!' although he's thinking it so hard it's practically audible.

Logan suspects that the guy can dish it out but can't take it -– he's fine-boned under all that lean muscle – but it takes him a while to test that theory on account of the kid being so damned quick. He can land a punch and duck the comeback in the blink of a red-beaming eye. And yeah, Logan wasn't taking him too seriously at first, but now he's getting a little pissed. Logan can feel the smile freezing on his face as he gets an elbow in the face he wasn't expecting. His nose crunches, there's a spray of blood, and he turns round with a snarl that means business. He takes a punch to the ribs that hurts and finally lands one that isn't quite as hard but still knocks the breath out of Summers, who staggers back a couple of paces, trying to exhale. Logan hooks a foot around his ankle and puts him –- finally -– on his ass.

He's on him like he's prey, pinning him down, sweating and bleeding on him until his nose heals up, and then he's just sweating and grinding down, holding the kid's wrists flat to the floor, his mouth an inch from his.

"What oh what shall I do with you first?" Logan says aloud.

The kid struggles, and he has good moves, but this time Logan doesn't underestimate him and, bringing his A-game, Logan keeps him pinned. Just.

"You want me to say 'uncle'?" Summers says with a show of patience that isn't fooling anyone – he still smells mad as hell. Logan just knows he's going to have Logan set up in the Danger Room as his next adversary and he's not going to leave that place until he's learned all his moves.

"I'd rather you sucked my dick," Logan smirks. "But I figure a nice boy like you probably doesn't put out on a first date."

Summers struggles again, manages to break loose for a second, and they roll over before Logan slams him down hard, with Logan's left hand bruising those fine-boned wrists and Logan's knee jammed between his legs. Summers screws up his pretty face in annoyance, and Logan just knows he would be breaking out the optic beams if Logan didn't have hold of his hands. He would just love to slam a knee in Logan's crotch, too, if Logan is smelling him right, but Logan has made sure he has too much of Logan's body weight on top of him for him to get the right traction.

Logan says, "So, do you…?"

"Do I what?" Summers demands in unrestrained annoyance.

"Put out on a first date?"

Summers pretty mouth does a sort of stunned pout that makes Logan want to bite his bottom lip. "What the hell, Logan?" Summers looks around at the room as if to confirm that they really are brawling on its floor as he was thinking. "This is your idea of a date?"

"Well, the fighting was good but so far the fucking is definitely lacking."

Summers says in disbelief, "This is your idea of…foreplay?"

Logan assumes a hurt expression. "You mean it isn't yours…?"

Summers is spluttering something incoherent that contains the phrase: '…completely out of your mind…!' when Logan kisses him again. Logan's a good kisser and Summers is a kid who clearly forgot to practice this scenario in the Danger Room so he's way out of his depth. Logan kisses him brutally, bruisingly, and then mouths his bottom lip, then his top lip, so gently that they're barely touching, then more firmly, then hard and demanding, then soft and sweet, then rough again, and Summers can't anticipate, can't react, so he ends up just responding, like he has no idea how and why this is happening, like it's against his will, but he's doing it all the same. Logan is just that good at this. Summers' mouth opens and he lets Logan's tongue in, like this is happening in a dream and reality will adjust itself in a moment. His expression is mostly 'stunned codfish' but he's such a pretty boy that even his stunned codfish face is beautiful and Logan presses in deeper, realizing that he wants him now. He isn't just playing around to fuck with the kid's head. He really wants him. Damn. He breathes in his angry, confused, perspiring scent and kisses him for real, deep and hungry, reaching for the zip of his stupid leather uniform and pulling it down, unzipping himself so they can rub skin unimpeded.

 

Summers makes soft, choked groans as Logan fucks him. He'd flipped him onto his hands and knees and prepped him a little first, but maybe not enough. He'd just meant to rub one out, but the want had taken him by surprise, and he was in him harder and faster and deeper than he'd meant to be, fired up with a lust he hadn't felt in years. The kid's taking it alright, as rough as Logan likes, no protests, just a couple of whimpers and those strangled moans. He's too in his head, still, trying not to admit how much it hurts, how much he's into it, how much he's into how much it hurts, his body sending a collect call while he's still trying not to accept the charges. Under the untouched surface, there's something deeply fucked up, but right now Logan just wants this friction, this tightness, this hot, slicked hole and his cock pumping into it just right. His balls are painting bruises on the boy's taut little ass and he wants to leave marks, wants Jean to see them: See, Jeanie? All your boyfriends are belong to us. 

You're mine, kid, mine. You're fucking mine.

It was rough, unapologetic, some people might have called it brutal, but it got the job done. Logan bangs him hard and straight and deep and slow then rough and rapid and he can smell how much the boy-scout wants to whimper like a spanked puppy, but he's not giving Logan the satisfaction of hearing him give way.

Logan comes hard and loud but the boy's still stubborn, trying to choke down the pleasure like he'd tried to choke down the pain, and Logan tries shoving his fingers into the kid's come-dripping ass to work his prostate, absolutely determined that the kid is coming from this, not from getting his cock touched, he likes it up the ass, Logan can smell that all over him like cologne. He's been wanting this for a while, and he's going to admit how much he needs it. He needs something thicker and longer to make his point. The prissy pretty boy keeps fighting him and Logan snarls ‘Stay there!’

Fear won't hold him –- the dumb kid's not afraid of the bigger, stronger, older guy who just fucked him hard enough to make him bleed like the virgin he is –- but being naked and locked in might, so Logan takes his clothes and takes the key after locking the door from the outside. Pretty Boy can wash off Logan's scent but he can't do much else.

Sprinting all the way, Logan barely makes it, Summers is just springing the lock with some girl's dropped hairpin when Logan grabs him by the throat and slams him back against the tiles. He smells of soap and shampoo and Logan grins a wolfish grin because the boy had played the game just as he should -– washed off Logan's scent like he wasn't reveling in how hard the guy just claimed him, in the process giving himself a reason not to have sprung that lock in the thirty seconds that was all he'd probably needed to escape. He could have run away but he hasn't. He wants Logan to make him come. He wants Logan to prove that he really deserves to be the guy on top. That Scott Summers has been claimed by the alpha male in the room, point proven clearly enough that there's no shame in giving way.

They grapple and Logan's rough with him, rougher than he wants to be, but the boy has his pride, and he's entitled to have bruises to look at later that tell him he was beaten hard enough for there to be no shame in crying 'uncle'. He slams him around, adding bruises from each wall, and different parts of the floor, then chokes him limp and finger-fluttering, like the wing feathers of a bird. Logan relaxes his chokehold and Summers swallows painfully, throat bruised, body-scent submissive. Logan steps up for a minute to lock the door from the inside while the kids gets his breath back. Logan kisses him again, sweet and slow, then flips him onto his knees and begins to work the zucchini into him. Sweat breaks out over the kid's soap-slicked body and he moans a protest, but Logan keeps working it into him with deft nudging thrusts, makes him take the whole length, until Summers is stretched to the limit. Logan uses a twisted dishcloth to loop around the boy's narrow hips, tying off the ends so the zucchini is held in place, then carries him into the shower.

Washing them both makes Logan hornier than he'd ever imagined possible when they started this game. He wants to soap inside Summers but that access is denied him for the present so he consoles himself with lathering him everywhere else, and lathering himself so they both reek of the same tea tree oil shower gel, like they rolled in a bush of the stuff. Gravity is his friend here, and he unties the dishcloth, keeping Summers sitting on his filled ass on the floor of the shower cubicle, while Logan holds his hips and rubs up against him with gentle, careful pushes, lifting him just enough that his finger can push that flexing zucchini in and out, nice and deep. 

Summers fights him a little longer but he's new to this and that solid heft pumping into his ass is making the pleasure bubble up like a volcano. Logan is having too good a time to let this be over quickly, so he licks Summers cock head in a way that makes the boy sob and then catches hold of his hair and slips his own cock into that rosy mouth.

Teaching Summers to give head is better than Logan could ever have imagined and if he didn't want back into his ass so badly he would have loved to make the boy swallow his come, but he makes him take it deep and fast enough to make Summers shiver at how much he's being made to submit and for Logan to be a breath away from coming. This kiss is a reward for being a good, obedient boy –- the words flip a switch and Summers yearns towards him after that, wanting reassurance and praise: fucked up way too far back to fix now, Logan suspects, as his tongue seeks and finds Logan's own taste at the back of Summers' throat. He raises up his taut little buttocks and the zucchini slips out and Logan slips in, a sweet stretch of an exchange that makes Summers moan and arch.

Logan fucks him, not too hard, licking salt tears from the boy's face as they trickle down from behind the visor. Keeps going until Summers opens up to him fully, and comes with a whimper. Logan finds that he needs it a little rough with Summers to get all the way, so slams into him, breathing hot, filthy words into his ear. The boy curls into him when Logan comes, wanting comfort. Logan nuzzles him and tells him he did good. He's breathing hard and he feels triumphant and savagely possessive. Scott Summers is now his bitch. Logan can follow his orders on a mission now, no problem at all. Knowing, as he flicks a heated glance over Summers in the jet coming home, like the crack of a whip to make him flinch, that Summers will be starting to shiver in anticipation, knowing he'll be paying later for every order Logan obeyed, on his knees, on his back, on the floor, on the bed, hard and whimpering up against the wall.

Logan says, “No more crying, Scott. This is what you wanted. Exactly this.” 

When Logan pats his shoulder invitingly, the boy cuddles in against him, snuffling a little because the tears went on longer than either of them expected, something welling up from somewhere that was reluctant to go back to the deeps. Logan puts an arm around his flawless back and nuzzles his throat at the place where Logan's fingers left the deepest bruises. He strokes Scott Summers' hair and licks the drying salt from his face and waits for his heartbeat to steady. By the end, he smells perfect, clean and come-spattered at once, only a little blood from where Logan didn't use quite enough spit and where his claws just grazed him, mostly he smells like something that belongs to Logan.

Logan kisses him tenderly and says, “This is going to be good, Scott. You and me, we're going to be the best there is.” And when Scott says nothing Logan understands, completely, that silence is consent.


End file.
